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BERRIES OF THE BRIER. 



Berries of the Brier. 



ARLO BATES. 




BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1886. 



^^Vi OF COVTtI^ 






Copyright, 1886, - 
By Roberts Brothers. 



SSmbcrsftg ^«iS3: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



Ed tje ilHemorg 
of 



CONTENTS. 



Memories of Cuba,— page 

Una Senorita ii 

A Song of Revery 12 

On the Road to Chorrera . 13 

The Danza 14 

A Woman's Rejection 16 

Between 17 

Initiation 18 

The Brown Lichen 19 

A Woodland Tragedy 21 

Cupid's Lineage 22 

A Shadow Boat 23 

A Fantasy 24 

Metempsychosis 25 

A Lover's Messengers ; . . 26 

Failure 28 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

A Sketch-Book by the Sea, — page 

On the Beach 29 

A Windy Day 29 

The Starboard Tack 29 

On the Ledge 30 

An Old Garden 30 

A Night Sketch 31 

A Lover's Canticles, — 

Aubado 32 

Song 33 

Memnon . . . . " 33 

The Rose Guerdon 34 

The Ring 35 

Serenade 35 

Devotion 36 

Self-Reproach 38 

Constancy 38 

A Reversing Mirror 40 

Lisa's Gate 41 

Unchosen 42 

A Last Word 43 

A Lament 44 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

To THE Phcebe-Bird 45 

One 47 

Might Love be Bought 48 

Solitude 49 

A Spring Fancy * . . . 50 

A Fear 51 

A Casuistry 52 

Content 53 

Present Joy 54 

A Love Song 55 

The Lost Dream 56 

HiLAD TO Margery 57 

A Winter Twilight 60 

Heredity 61 

Tekel 62 

In thy Clear Eyes 63 

A Night Ride 64 

The Second-Sight 65 

A Rose 66 

His Fate 68 

A Coryphee 69 

Life 71 

Truth 72 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

To A Ghost 73 

An Indian Air 74 

From THE Grave 76 

Recognition 77 

" Felicissima Notte " 78 

Consolation 79 

H. R. P. , 80 

The Ballad of the Spinner 81 

Aqua della Toffana 91 



BERRIES OF THE BRIER. 



MEMORIES OF CUBA. 
I. 

UNA SENORITA. 

/^NE found a reason, when she came, 
^^ Why the Paseo glowed with light. 
And why the music swelled and thrilled 
As if upon a festal night. 

The band was playing Le Desir, — 
Why that old strain I cannot tell, — 

And all her carriage, all her grace, 
Accorded with the music well. 

High overhead the southern moon 
Shone as no other moon can shine ; 

Perhaps I fixed her liquid glance. 
Perhaps 't was but a fancy mine ; 



MEMORIES OF CUBA. 

And yet in northern climes and far. 
The scene before me rises dear ; 

Her gracious shape I seem to see 
Whene'er the band plays Le Desir I 

II. 

A SONG OF REVERY. 

"DENEATH the heavy northern skies, 

That hang so low, some subtle sense 
Is well aware how placid lies 
A blue lagoon, in calm intense, 
Glassing the heaven high and far. 
Ah, love, how keen thy memories are ! 

How soft the bamboo shadows fall, 

And palm-trees wave with rhythmic beat, 
While lizards up the sunny wall 
Dart in swift joyance of the heat, 

As burning shines the mid-world sun. 
Ah, love, how soon thy joys are done I 

How well my dream her lattice knows, 
Which from the blinding tropic day 



MEMORIES OF CUBA. 13 

Shuts in sweet dusk and scents of rose 
And more delights than words might say, 
Which I shall never know again. 
How bitter love's regrets and vain / 



III. 

ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA. 
[1790.] 

'T^HREE horsemen galloped the dusty way 
^ While sun and moon were both in the sky ; 
An old crone crouched in the cactus' shade, 
And craved an alms as they rode by. 
A friendless hag she seemed to be, 
But the queen of a bandit crew was she. 

One horseman tossed her a scanty dole, 
A scoffing couplet the second trolled. 
But the third, from his blue eyes frank and free, 
No glance vouchsafed the beldam old ; 
As toward the sunset and the sea, 
No evil fearing, rode the three. 



14 MEMORIES OF CUBA. 

A curse she gave for the pittance small, 
A gibe for the couplet's ribald word ; 
But that which once had been her heart 
At sight of the silent horseman stirred : 

And safe through the ambushed band they speed 
For the sake of the rider who would not heed ! 



IV. 

THE DANZA, 

TF you never have danced the danza, 
•^ With its wondrous rhythmic swirl, 
While close to your bosom panted 
Some dark-eyed Creole girl, 

Of dancing you know naught ! 

By Inez I was taught. 

*T is a dance with strangest pauses. 

It moves as the breezes blow : 
Her lips were like pomegranate blossoms, 
While her teeth were white as snow. 
Of beauty I knew naught ; 
By Inez I was taught. 



MEMORIES OF CUBA. 15 

The fountain splashed in the garden 

Where the palm-trees hid the moon ; 
Who well had danced the danza^ 
A kiss might crave as boon. 
Of loving I knew naught ; 
By Inez I was taught ! 



1 6 A WOMAN'S REJECTION. 



A WOMAN'S REJECTION. 

nPHERE was one moment, sir, 
-^ My soul unveiled her face, 
And met your eyes with hers, 
Unflinching in her place. 

Why did your glance avoid ? 

Why did your eyehds fall? 
There was the chance to prove 

Your manhood once for all ! 

But since you failed of that, 
Go ; be blest or forlorn ; 

To me you count no more 

Than you had ne'er been bom. 



BETWEEN. 17 



BETWEEN. 

T TOW fare the hosts of the dead, 
-^ Or of those that are still to be, 

While holding the hands of these unseen, 
Shivering between, stand we ? 

Wailing from deeps of the dark 

We come, and wailing go 
To deeps of the outer dark again, 

In endless column slow. 

The listless hands of the dead 
We clasp with frantic strain, — 

Do the unborn kiss with tears our hands, 
Seeking response in vain ? 



1 8 INITIATION. 



INITIATION. 

/^UT of the Unknown came I, 
^^ Pure-hearted, free from guile j 
A mystic maiden met me 

And bewitched me with her smile. 

She taught me deadly secrets 
It breaks the heart to know : 

Ah, Life ! how had I wronged thee 
That thou should'st harm me so ? 



THE BROWN LICHEN. 19 



THE BROWN LICHEN. 



■\ 1 riTH dusky fingers clinging to the stone, 

Through summer's languid days and lovely 
nights, 
Through autumn's chillness and the spring's delights. 
The lichen lives in grimmest state, alone. 



The spicy summer breezes o'er it go, 
But from its nun-like breast win no perfume ; 
Brown bees, gold-dusted, seek some flower's bloom. 

Nor pause above it, flitting to and fro. 



The snail glides over it with solemn pace \ 
The cunning spider in it spins her snare ; 
But, be its tenants either foul or fair. 

The lichen naught is troubled in her place. 



20 THE BROWN LICHEN. 

The fays full oft in splendid state go by, ' 
And elfin laughter thrills through all the air, 
" What cheer, Dame Lichen, grave and debonair ? " 

To them vouchsafes the Uchen no reply. 

We pluck among the crannies of the stone 
The wild flowers, purple, golden, or sweet blue ; 
But both in nature and in friendship too, 

We leave the grim brown lichen quite alone. 



A WOODLAND TRAGEDY. 21 



A WOODLAND TRAGEDY. 

A ROSE leaned over a woodland pool, 
-^^- With its own imaged beauty thrilling ; 
So self-entranced, it had no eye , 
For daffodilly or lily cool. 
Or bending grasses or dragon-fly 
On wings of opal flitting by. 
Or clouds the heaven filling. 

There strayed a maiden the woodland through, 

Her image in that mirror flinging. 

The rose's blissful dreams swift fled ; 

Its beauty far outshone it knew ; 

Shivered in all its petals red 

And on the pool their richness shed. — 

The maiden passed on singing. 



CUPID'S LINEAGE. 



CUPID'S LINEAGE. 

"X^l riTH Cupid as once I chatted, 

* Fair Aphrodite's son ' 
By chance I called the naughty rogue j 
When retorted the volatile one : 

" 'T is time to unlearn those fancies, 
Those myths are false and vain : , , 

Sir Idlesse was my father named, 
And my mother was Lady Disdain." 



A SHADOW BOAT. 23 



A SHADOW BOAT. 

T TNDER my keel another boat 
^^ Sails as I sail, floats as I float ; 
Silent and dim and mystic still, 
It steals through that weird nether-world, 
Mocking my power, though at my will 
The foam before its prow is curled, 
Or calm it lies, with canvas furled. 

Vainly I peer, and fain would see 

What phantom in that boat may be ; 

Yet half I dread, lest I with ruth 

Some ghost of my dead past divine, 

Some gracious shape of my lost youth, 

Whose deathless eyes once fixed on mine 

Would draw me downward through the brine ! 



24 A FANTASY. 



A FANTASY. 



I 



F there were a thousand years 
Between my life and me, 
And as in an age-dim tome 
I might its story see, — 



How mystic and sweet and strange. 
Like some old tale, would be 

The anguish that now I know, 
In my hopeless love for thee ! 



ME TEMPS YC HOSTS. 2 5 



METEMPSYCHOSIS. 

' 1\ /TID the sea-silt and the sea-sand, 

Sinuous and sinister, fold on fold, 
Sliding and winding tortuously, 
Slips the sea-snake, weird and old ; 
Longing, with gleams of slumbrous fire 
In her dull eyes, and fierce desire 
In her slow brain, for that far time 
When, rising lotus-like from ooze and slime. 
Her sinuate litheness changed to supple grace. 
Her sibilance melted to witching speech. 
She shall the heights of glorious being reach, 
And lure her prey with woman's form and face. 



26 A LOVER'S MESSENGERS. 



A LOVER'S MESSENGERS. 

nPHE earliest flowers of spring 
To thee, beloved, I bring : 

Anemone and graceful adder's-tongue, 
With golden cowslips, yellow as the sun 
And fresh as brooks by which they sprung ; 
Sweet violets that we love ; and, one by one. 
The blossoms that come after, — cherry-bloom 
And snow of shad-bush, wilful columbine 
In pale red raiment, and the milky stars 
Of chickweed-wintergreen ; the trilliums fine 
That make the robins sing ; sHm walnut-buds 
In satin sheen, and furry curling ferns, 
Like owlets half awake ; with floods 
Of alder tassels that drop dust of gold 
On the dark pools where, 'twixt the bars 
Of piercing sunbeams, speckled troutlings dart. 



A LOVER'S MESSENGERS. 27 

And thus until the jocund year is old 
And frosts spin cerements, white and chill, 
O'er all the woodlands, fold on fold, 
I tell the days with flowers, to mind thee still 
Who, kind to blossoms, to me cruel art. 
How swift is time, how constant is my heart. 



28 FAILURE. 



FAILURE. 



/^OUNT not the trampled dead spared any strain 
^^ Because another won where he was slam. 
Are hearts ignoble proved whose cause is lost ? 
Vain is the standard if success hide cost. 



Loss is not failure ; not success is gain ; 
Idle as measures are both bhss and pain. 
Who falters, fails, although he clutch the prize ; 
Who proves his utmost, wins, though dead he lies. 



A SKETCH-BOOK BY THE SEA. 29 



A SKETCH-BOOK BY THE SEA. 

ON THE BEACH. 

A LEVEL sea to the edge of the world, 
'^^ Purple and green and gray as steel ; 
A fisher-boat with its white sails furled, 
And a far black ledge where flock the seal. 

A WINDY DAY. 

As silver 'neath the smith's quick beat 
Gleam the reflections on the bay. 

Pale, trampled fires that have no heat. 
By the wind crushed from gold to gray. 

THE STARBOARD TACK. 

The breeze is stiff as the schooner tacks. 
And quick each dusky, hollow sail 

Crinkles like satin in the sun, 
Gleaming like beaten silver mail. 



30 A SKETCH-BOOK BY THE SEA, 



ON THE LEDGE. 

In ineffable floods of beryl 
The wave pours over the ledge ; 

Chrysoprase, pearl, and nacre 

It heaps on the rock's black edge. 



AN OLD GARDEN. 

A dim old garden, where is primly set 
Row after row of box and lupine pale, 

With quaint old flowers that modern times forget 
Where honeysuckles from the trellis trail, 

And stiff and tall along the shoreward rocks 
Lombardy poplars woful sentry stand. 

And each with shadow on the greensward mocks 
The spectral pointing of the dial's hand, — 

The dial that on carved post of red 

Marks all the wasting of each sunny hour. 

But when the sea and sky are gray as lead, 
Has neither hope nor comfort in its power. 



A SKETCH-BOOK BY THE SEA. 31 



A NIGHT SKETCH. 

Upon the sea the pictured moon 

Floats like a golden shell ; 
On the dark sky their mystic rune 

The constellations spell. 

Afar a single silver sail 

Has through the mist-wreaths broke, 
Like some lost spirit, wan and pale, 
That strives toward heaven without avail, 

To climb on incense smoke. 



Campobello, 

September, 1885. 



32 A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 



A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 
L 

AUBADO. 

TN the hush of the morn, before the sun, 

I waken to think of thee ; 
And all the sweet day thus begun 
As hallowed seems to be. 

In the holy repose the morning star 
With trembling awaits the sun, 

And thus my heart, if near or far, 
Awaits thee, sweetest one. 

In a golden ecstasy of bliss 

The fair morning-star will die ; 

But I, immortal by thy kiss, 
Live but when thou art nigh. 



A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 2>3 

II. 

SONG. 

T 1 rERE I a prince Egyptian, countless years 

Swathed in fine linen, cased in cedarn pride, 
With spicery and balsams all en wrapt, 

Adorned with gold and with vermilion dyed, — 

Yet should thy lightest footfall stir the air 
Of that dim chamber where I lay at rest, 

Through all my being would love tremors thrill, 
And hot my longing heart leap in my breast. 

III. 

MEMNON. 

OPEECHLESS through all the cheerless night 
^^ Stood Memnon's statue ; but at morn 
The stone lips hailed the Day-god bright 
With sounds of love and rapture born. 
3 



34 A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 

Lo ! here an image of my heart, 
That has no voice bereft of thee ; 

But into songs of joy must start 
If thy sweet presence shine on me. 



IV. 

THE ROSE GUERDON. 

T KISS the rosebud which you wore, 
■*- Yet know not why I love it so ; 
'T was but a simple flower before 
It blushed against thy breast of snow. 

But since, to such a worth 't is grown, 
It is a guerdon most divine ; 
Because the touch which it has known. 
The breast which it has pressed, were thine. 



A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 35 

V. 

THE RING. 

n^HIS ring I send thee thrice a thousand years 
^ Lay buried 'mid the dust of Lybian kings. 
If it might speak, unto our eager ears, 
What strange tales would it tell of bygone things, — 

" Wild, shifting scenes " of mystery and pride. 
The pomp of monarchs long forgotten now ; 
But all its tales must seem as naught beside 
The one it brings thee, — Love's eternal vow ! 

VL 

SERENADE. 

"\ 7[ ^HILE Stars above thee glow, 
And the red moon sinks low 
Into the dusky sea ; 
Night visions come and go : 
Dearest, in dreaming so 
Dream'st thou who loveth thee ? 



36 A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 

Weirdly the night-bird sings, 

Sailing on silent wings 

Over the dewy lea ; 

Her note a rapture brings : 

Sweetest, with heavenly things 

Dream 'st thou who loveth thee ? 

Deep longing fills his breast ; 
Knows he nor sleep nor rest, 
Severed as now from thee : 
Fairest one, loved the best, 
Were the sweet truth confessed, 
Dream'st thou who loveth thee ? 



VII. 

DEVOTION. 
I. 

AJO lotus on Ganges floating 
^ ^ With thy beauty may compare ; 
The moon over Eden gloating 
Saw nothing half so fair. 



A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 37 

More bright than stars that glimmer, 
Lingering o'er some snowy peak 

Morn-crimsoned, thine eyes shimmer 
Above thy faint flushed cheek. 

As blindness yearns for seeing, 

As Ganges longs for the sea, 
As the poet's dream for being, 

So longs my heart for thee ! 



No lotus on Ganges floating, 
Trembling in dewy sleep, 

Above the sacred waters 
That ever seaward sweep, 

Is purer than thy pureness, 
Is whiter than thy thought. 

Is sweeter than thy presence, 
Or more with blessing fraught. 

As worships the Hindoo the river 
Where the snowy lilies be, 

So with all pure devotion 
My spirit worships thee ! 



38 A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 

VIII. 

SELF-REPROACH. 

1 1 rHEN first death's great delight I met, 
* * There might, beloved, one instant be 
I should forget — no, not forget. 

But not have conscious thought of thee. 

And all eternity, contrite, 

I should be striving to atone 
For that oblivion, till aright 

My heart remembered thee alone I 

IX. 

CONSTANCY. 

'T^HE weakest heart, whate'er its changes, 

Howe'er the varying life may run, 
Howe'er the hght affection ranges. 
Is constant in its depths to one. 



A LOVER'S CANTICLES. 39 

Through sweetest lands the stranger wanders, 

Yet none of all like home he sees ; 
On many a maid his fancy squanders, 

But gives his heart to none of these. 

By night and day a constant yearning 

Burns in his soul for one afar ; 
To her his thoughts still backward turning, 

As the fond needle seeks its star. 

The lightest heart, whate'er its changes. 

Until this fitful life be done, 
How^'er the fickle fancy ranges, 

Is constant in its love to one. 



40 A REVERSING MIRROR. 



A REVERSING MIRROR. 

"\ /f Y love, if we sat at the play, 
^ ^ And our story were acted true. 
Would the hero win only the scorn 
Which now you mete out as my due ? 

I fancy you then would relent, 

Or even your censure rue ; 
And, indeed, I cannot be sure 

But I, too, might exonerate you ! 



LISA'S GATE. 41 



LISA'S GATE. 

'T^WO lovers meet at Lisa's gate : 
-*- " Comrade, comrade, who art thou ? 
The night is dark, the hour is late, 
No welcomes here thy coming wait ; 
Comrade, comrade, speed thee now ! " 

Two broadswords clash in sudden fight : 

" Comrade, comrade, who art thou ? 
Thy sword-thrusts fall with bitter might, 
Nor thou nor I shall see the light. 

Comrade, comrade, speed thee now ! " 

Fair Lisa hears their dying cry : 

" Comrade, comrade, who art thou ? " 

As idle breath it passes by ; 

To one afar she wafts a sigh : 

" Comrade, comrade, speed thee now ! " 



42 UNCHOSEN. 



UNCHOSEN. 



OTILL stings one bitter moment 
^^ When — in that mystic land 
Where, waiting Fate's dread summons, 
The unborn spirits stand — 



Genius walked grand among us, 

Her own to signify ; 
And while I thrilled with yearning, 

Smiled on me, but passed by ! 



A LAST WORD. 43 



A LAST WORD. 

TF I forgive you, forego you, forget you, 

Is that the whole ? Do you therefore go free ? 
My sorrow is all my life to regret you : 
Have you no pang in remembering me ? 

'T is not for love the memory should pain you. 
You will not think if my wounded heart bleed ; 
But for yourself, that dishonor should stain you, — 
Surely that thought might be worthy your heed. 

Though I forgive you, I may not absolve you. 
Only repentance your guilt can remove. 
I plead by dead love ; in self-pity revolve you 
How yet remorse your atonement may prove ! 



44 A LAMENT. 



A LAMENT. 

T ET gleeful muses sing their roundelays ! 
^~-^ So might my muse have sung ; 

But in the jocund days 
When she was young, 

She chanced upon a grave 
New-made, and since, there strays 
A mournful cadence through her lightest stave. 

Her mask, however gay. 
Still covers cheeks tear- wet ; 
She cannot, in her singing, smile 
Until she can forget. 



TO THE PHCEBE BIRD. 45 



TO THE PHGEBE BIRD. 

TIj^ACH blessed morning, 
Much to my scorning, 
You 're up and wailing for Phoebe dear ; 

And still your calling. 

When day is faUing, 
Doleful as ever salutes the ear. 

We all admire 

The constant fire 
Supposed to burn in lover's breast ; 

Yet glints of reason 

May do no treason 
To faith and love and all the rest. 

This endless sighing. 
These threats of dying. 
Only provoke the maiden's scorn ; 



46 TO THE PHCEBE BIRD. 

'T is arrant folly 
Not to be jolly 
Despite of any maid that 's born ! 

Your mournful wailing 

Is unavailing ; 
You 'd more effect if you should swear ! 

This heartless Phoebe — 

Whoever she be — 
For all your sighs will nothing care. 

Why don't you flout her, 

And vow you doubt her, 
And rate her for an arrant jade ? 

You 'd soon subdue her 

If so you 'd woo her : 
She '11 never love till she 's afraid. 

You, silly songster, 

Protest, " Thou wrong'st her ! " 
But I 've been longer born than you ; 

I know the sex, sir. 

Their tricks to vex, sir : 
Flame when you scorn, ice when you sue ! 



ONE, 47 



ONE. 

nPHE world is naught till one is come 
-^ Who is the world ; then beauty wakes 
And voices sing that have been dumb. 

The world is naught when one is gone 

Who was the world ; then the heart breaks 
That this is lost which once was won. 

Dear love, this hfe, so passion fraught, 
From you its bliss or sorrow takes ; 
With you is all ; without you naught. 



48 MIGHT LOVE BE BOUGHT. 



MIGHT LOVE BE BOUGHT. 

IWTIGHT love be bought, I were full fain 
^^ ^ My all to give thy love to gain. 

Yet would such getting profit naught ; 

Possession with keen fears were fraught 
Would make even love's blisses vain. 

For who could tell what god might deign 
His golden treasures round thee rain, 
Till ruin to my hopes were brought, 
Might love be bought. 

Better a pensioner remain 

On thy dear grace, since to attain 

To worthiness m vain I sought. 

Thy kindness hath assurance wrought 
Could never be between us twain, 
Might love be bought. 



SOLITUDE. 49 



SOLITUDE. 



■pvANGEROUS is solitude : so easily 

-*-^ We mingle dreams with deeds, and what we would 

Set down as what we do ; our hardihood 
Untried, call courage ; and to seem, to be. 

Self must with men its value measured see, 
Its deeds with deeds the ages mark as good. 
Must flee self-pity ; oft " misunderstood " 

Means mere misunderstanding. Equity 

Though hard yet sure, life brings. Whate'er excuse 

Self plead with self, to fail is still to fail ; 
And so the world scores, though the fond recluse 

Dream high intents no less than acts prevail. 

Life 's energy or naught ; let it have use, 
Consume in deeds, not in mere prayers exhale ! 
4 



50 A SPRING FANCY. 



A SPRING FANCY. 

HTHE first spring bird sang blithely 
-*- In a meadow scarcely green, 
Where the soft leaves covered fondly 
A violet not yet seen. 

The bird flew high in ether, 

But the song was not lost in air ; 

'T was out-breathed in sweetest odors 
By the violet springing there. 



A FEAR. 51 



A FEAR. 

TV /TUTE, walking grief-stricken with wringing hands, 
^ ^ Among the living, countless spirits go, 
And jostle in the crowds the friends they seek, 
While neither may the other's presence know. 

Lovers, death- severed, wander side by side 
Unknowing, rent with keenest throes of pain ; 

And side by side walk friends who, each for each. 
Waste life lamenting with sighs long as vain. 

For spirit sense can naught but spirits ken, 
While we, clay-bound, see only fellow clay ; 

Yet time our grief assuages, we forget, 

While faithful to a deathless memory they ! 



52 A CASUISTRY, 



A CASUISTRY. 

"X 1 rE promised each to each that day 

Not what we said, but what we were ; 
If time has seen our love decay, 
We both are blameless, I aver. 

Its rich bloom gives the rose of June 

Until it fades : it can no more ; 
Its linked sweetness breathes the tune 

And dies as waves waste on the shore. 

Is rose or song or love untrue 

That it immortal cannot be ? 
Some law of being running through 

They all obey ; no less must we. 

We were unwise, that may be said ; 

But now absolved, each goes his "way : 
As easy wake the rose that 's dead 

As now keep vows were made that day ! 



CONTENT. 53 



CONTENT. 

/^ONTENTED lie the noontime resting herd ; 
^^ Content are dotards, nodding heads of snow ; 
Content are prattling babes, too young to know 
The hopes by which the mother's heart is stirred. 

But strong men, fired with zeal unswerving, gird 
Their loins with patience and to battle go ; 
Their souls with yearning filled, little they know 
Of lotus-fed content ! The soaring bird 

Sees still new deeps above, and longing sends 
Her song aspiring toward those loftier skies 
She may not reach ; and heroes, unto ends 

Beyond attaining, strive with eager eyes, 

In godlike effort that as far transcends 

Poor dull content as heaven an earthly prize ! 



54 PRESENT JOY. 



PRESENT JOY. 



/'^OULD I taste the joy of to-morrow, 
^^ Of to-morrow and yesterday, — 
The bliss shall assuage coming sorrow. 

And the bliss that has passed away, — 
From these at last might I borrow 

True sense of joy to-day. 



A LOVE-SONG. 55 



A LOVE-SONG. 

T OVE 'S like the eglantine, which bears 
^-^ The sweetest rose, 
Whose witching perfume flows 
On summer airs. 

Ardent youth longs with eager hand 
To pluck the flower, 
And many a wistful hour 
Will sighing stand. 

Yet if his fortune bring him nigh 
To grasp the rose. 
Only its thorn he knows, — 
The bloom gone by ! 



56 THE LOST DREAM. 



THE LOST DREAM. 

T WOKE in the pulseless night, 
"^ And a sweet dream stole away 
So near that its wings in flight 
Shed perfume where I lay. 

And ne'er in this life of mine 
Can that loss amended be, 

Since now I can only divine 

How sweet was that dream of thee. 



HILAD TO MARGERY. 57 



HILAD TO MARGERY. 



T SAW to-day a merry, smooth-faced maid 

^ Laughing, and basking brown cheeks in the sun ; 

And memory at the token, one by one, 
Repeated all your words, and thereby laid 

New meaning on them. "Why," you said, " invade 
My girlhood's garden ? Till the spring is done 
I list the birds, and will be wooed of none. 

You fright my finches, and you cast a shade 

Upon my violets. Than your love their bloom 

Is fairer. Leave me, then." And I in shame 
And grief made way, and gave the finches room. 

And when to-day I saw this maid, there came 

A wonder o'er me how I dared presume 
Break up your peace to press my passion's claim. 



S3 HILAD TO MARGERY. 

11. 

I wronged thee that I let my shadow fall 
Across thy sunshine, that I weakly let 
Around thee steal the chill of my regret ; 

Not unto thee should I have raised the pall 

Which covered my dead hopes. And still in all 
'T was love, that, missing love's fruition, yet 
Must claim the seal of recognition set 

As being love, pure love, nor mean nor small. 

It asked but if thou feltest its shy touch 

Upon thy garment's hem, thou count it not 
Pollution, and it surely asked not much. 

Since mankind's weakest, howso low his lot, 

May love his God, who counts that love as such 
It gives His glory lustre, not a spot. 

III. 

No boon, no restitution did I claim 
For all the love I lavished upon thee ; 
Since as the sun must shine, e'en so with me 

"To live " includes "to love," being the same. 



HILAD TO MARGERY. 59 

By inner sweetness, spite of outward blame, 
Love works its own completeness if it be 
In king or churl. Oft coarse and ill to see 

Has been the vase from which with odors came 

The richest balsam ; rough the new-hewn tomb, 
In that Judaean garden, where they laid 
The body of the Lord in doubt and gloom ; 

Yet as that corse, with nails and spear-thrust frayed, 

Made holy all the place that gave it room, 
So hallows love the heart its home is made. 



6o A WINTER TWILIGHT. 



A WINTER TWILIGHT. 

T3ALE beryl sky, with clouds 
^ Hued like dove's wing, 
O'ershadowing 
The dying day, 
And whose edge half enshrouds 

The first fair evening star, 

Most crystalline by far 
Of all the stars that night enring. 

Half human in its ray : 
What blessed, soothing sense of calm 
Comes with this twilight, — sovereign balm 

That takes at last the bitter sting 

Of day's keen pain away. 



HEREDITY. 6i 



HEREDITY. 

'T^HOUGH half his suit she favored, 
^ Yet did she turn away. 
What weakness in him lay 

To fail her will to stay ? 
Alas ! his grandsire wavered 

When his sweetheart said him nay. 



62 TEKEL. 



TEKEL. 

TF he had stabbed me where I stood, 
•*- So dear he was, I could have died 
Without a doubt that, somehow, good 

He must have meant, though space denied 
To show what ill would else betide. 

But when at my worst need his glance, 
That should have held me up, star-clear. 

Turned but the faintest thought askance, 
No more he was my friend, nor dear 
Could be, were loneness ne'er so drear. 



IN THY CLEAR EYES. (iZ 



IN THY CLEAR EYES. 

TN thy clear eyes, fairest, I see 

Sometimes of love a transient glow ; 
But ere my heart assured may be, 
With cold disdain thou mockest me : 
Hope fades as songs to silence flow. 

Ah ! most bewitching, mocking she, 

Fairer than poet's dream may show, 
The glance of scorn how can I dree 
In thy clear eyes ? 

Life is so brief, and to and fro 

Like thistledown above the lea 

Fly our poor days ; then why so slow 
To bend from pride ? Let us bliss know 

Ere age the light dims ruthlessly 
In thy clear eyes. 



64 A NIGHT RIDE. 



A NIGHT RIDE. 

TTIS swart cheek tingled with the rain, 
■^ -*- So swift he rode that night ; 
But all his speed no boon might gain 
Save to kiss, in a rapture of love and pain, 
Dead lips at morning light. 

Had he but known, what touched his cheek, 

Riding that midnight wild, 
Was her soul's kiss that might not speak. 
And the wail in his ear, so woeful and weak, 

The cry of his unborn child ! 



THE SECOND-SIGHT. 65 



THE SECOND-SIGHT. 

^^ I have the second-sight, Goethe'^ — Bettina. 

'T^WICE in his life has man the second-sight. 
First does young love give prescience divine, 
As when the tender springtide moon benign 
Pours o'er the wanderer floods of golden light, 

Revealing gracious forms that troop by night 
From haunt of elf and fay. Next, when decline 
The stars of love, and in the western brine 

Plunge darkling, then, with wonder and affright, 

The heart strays, like a seer with purpose dread 
Who walks in storm-rent night along the plain 
Of some old battle, and while round his head 

Wild shrieks the wind, calls up the awful train 
That know alike the fate of quick and dead ; 
For woe, love's vision lost, gives second- sight again. 



66 A ROSE. 



A ROSE. 

[triolets.] 

"T^ WAS a Jacqueminot rose 

-*" That she gave me at parting ; 
Sweetest flower that blows 
'T was, a Jacqueminot rose. 
In the lone garden close, 

With the swift blushes starting, 
'T was a Jacqueminot rose 

That she gave me at parting. 

If she kissed it, who knows — 
Since I will not discover, 

And lone is that close — 

If she kissed it, who knows? 

Or if not the red rose. 
Perhaps then the lover ! 

If she kissed it, who knows, 
Since I will not discover ? 



A ROSE. • 67 

Yet at least with the rose 

Went a kiss that I 'm wearing ! 

More I will not disclose ; 

Yet at least with the rose 

Went whose kiss no one knows, 
Since I 'm only declaring 

That at least with the rose 

Went a kiss that I 'm wearing ! 



6S HIS FATE, 



HIS FATE. 

"\ X riTH keenest mother-pain and mother-joy, 
^ ^ With all that love could give or gold could buy, 
Came into happy life a blue- eyed boy 
Under the azure of a Northern sky. 

And who might know that in a wayside shed, 
Beneath the splendors of a Southern sun, 

That self-same hour, upon a beggar's bed, 
His fate and ruin, her life too begun. 



A CORYPHEE. 69 



A CORYPHEE. 

TT was chalk and rouge, I knew, 
And the costumer's petty art ; 
And yet as the ballet you floated through 
I felt a thrill at my heart, — 



A caprice of vague delight 

And a promise all sweet and vain ; 

Unless the frail bond of your dance to-night 
Shall bring us together again. 



You have touched a chord in my breast, — 
Or a something that might be you, — 

And I wonder if thus shall unbalanced rest 
The reckoning between us two ; 



70 A CORYPHEE. 

Or if somewhere, face to face, 
Or dead or alive as may chance, 

At last I shall pay all the debt of grace 
I owe for the joy of that dance. 

Let it be whene'er it will. 

And the place be whate'er it may. 

Be sure that my service to utmost shall be 
All yours in the deeds of that day. 



LIFE. 71 



LIFE. 



T IFE is a ray of light 
■^ Piercing dim air, 
Whose motes, an instant bright. 
Tell that the beam is there. 



A moment, and the golden gleam is gone ; 
Yet who knows why, or whither fleeting on ? 



72 TRUTH. 



TRUTH. 

A MAN knelt through the livelong night 
^ -^ And prayed with tears that morn might rise 
The first beam of the waited light 

With cureless blindness smote his eyes. 

A soul in darkness cried for truth, 

And dreamed the truth its bliss should be. 

Ah ! sad mistake, provoking ruth ! 
The truth brought endless misery. 



TO A GHOST. "11 



TO A GHOST. 

/^F old, if thy robe but brushed me, 
^-^ How did I start and thrill ! 
The simple, dimmest memory 

Has power to pain me still ! 
Yet now as I stand and see thee, 

Those fervors all have fled ; 
I burned in thy living presence. 

But thou canst not move me, dead. 

And yet those eyes still sparkle, 

Still glows that hair of gold. 
Still breathes the Indian perfume 

From thy robe's silken fold ; 
Thy voice has the old-time music. 

So sweet that it moved my dread, — 
No, thou art still of the living ; 

It is I who am of the dead ! 



74 AN INDIAN AIR. 



AN INDIAN AIR. 

/^ARELESS upon a time-stained lute 
^^ I played a subtile Indian air 
That all the world forgets, but I, 
For love of one so sweetly fair, 
Who sang it once, remember. 

The tune to plaintive moods did suit, 
Cadence to cadence melting slow ; 

Longings that not for time would die 
The music waked to softest glow, 
As brightens some dim ember. 

The ghostly moon from midnight sky 
Peered shivering my dim lattice through ; 

A hound howled, and his cry told well 
Some spirit sought that spot anew 
Where its heart-love yet lingered. 



AN INDIAN AIR. 7$ 

A soft wind seemed to pass me by, 

Strange bliss a moment soothed my pain. 

Why my tears sprang I might not tell ; 
But when I wiped those salt drops vain, 
The lute played oil unfingered! 



76 FROM THE GRAVE. 



FROM THE GRAVE. 

TN the castle garden a rose 
''" Had a hidden grave in its keeping : 
With pallid babe on her breast, 
A mother bent over it weeping. 

Never kiss of a father's lip 

Had brought to the babe its blessing 
Till the mother that red rose laid 

Against its cheek, caressing. 



RECOGNITION. 77 



RECOGNITION. 

T OVER and mistress, sleeping side by side, 
-"^-^ Death smote at once ; and in the outer air, 
Amaze dly confronted, each to each. 
Their spirits stood, of all disguises bare. 

With sudden loathing stung, one spirit fled, 
Crying : " Love turns to hate if this be thou ! " 

" Ah, stay ! " the other wailed, in swift pursuit ; 
" Thee I have never truly loved till now ! " 



78 '' FELICISSIMA NOTTE." 



"FELICISSIMA NOTTE." 

T TNDER the soft Italian moon 
^ We wished each other " happiest night/ 
And went our ways ; and both alike 
Were helpless in Fate's hand of might. 

" The happiest night ; " for well we knew 
Italian nights have more than dreams, 
And too had learned that, truly seen, 
All is not bliss that fairest seems ! 

For him the swift stiletto stab : 
The warmth of clinging arms for me ; 
Yet who might say whether had won 
The happiest night, or I or he ? 



CONSOLATION-. 79 



CONSOLATION. 

TN days of anguish and of desolation 
•*• Say not : " Time shall assuage the smart ! " 
Give to our grief at least the consecration 
Of standing unmatched and apart. 

" Ye shall forget." Oh, bitter consolation, 
More cruel than the woe it comes to heal. 

That makes a mockery of lamentation, 

And but the actor's cue each pang we feel \ 

Rent with the awful wrench of separation,, 
Leave us at least the dignity of pain ; 

Though it be false beyond all reparation. 
Let us believe we cannot love again ! 



isej. 



So H. R. P. 



H. R. P. 

" Gone into the world of light." 

Henry Vaughan. 

A RT thou called higher to a world of light 
■^^^ Alone, while we in outer dark remain ? 

We catch vague gleams of glory through our pain, 
As of the stars half seen in some drear night, 

And with a love would supplement our sight, 
Strive to see clearer. Do we hear a strain 
Of sweetest sound, like welcoming refrain ? 

Ah ! if it be that when in sore affright 

We thought the place that held thee was a tomb, 

It was that bright world's portal, we can wait 
Until we too from out this doubtful gloom 

Are bidden thither. Ever first calls fate 

The worthiest. Oh, favored guest, some room, 
Some memory keep for us, though we be late ! 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPLNNER. 8 1 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 



I. 



I. 

T^HE Spinner sought the highest room, Of the 
^ As downward sank the sun ; Spinner. 

She took her wheel amid the gloom, 
And swift and deft she spun. 

" He is false ! " she said upon the stair ; 

"Ah, false !" as grew the thread. 
She startled the chill silence there 

With murmured words of dread. 

She drew the flax out fine and long ; 

To a wild, wistful lay, 
She twisted into troubled song 

A spell strange powers obey. 



8-2 THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 



Of the Nothing of ill the Sailor dreamed, 
Watching the sun go down ; 
To see his sweet new love, he seemed, 
Sewing her wedding-gown. 



How slow for him his boat did go. 
How dragged the hours along. 

Till he again her voice should know. 
Singing some well-loved song. 

Out on the sea, pauseless as doom. 
The sure tides flood and run ; 

There in the tower's highest room 
The Spinner sang and spun. 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPLNNER. ^2i 



II. 



When at the sunset, on the land,. Of the 

The Spinner climbed the stair, ^^'^^• 

Over the sea on either hand, 
The sky of cloud was bare. 

But as she drew the fatal thread, 
Low, moaning winds were blown ; 

And as she chanted words of dread. 
Pale, fitful lightnings shone. 



II. 



The Sailor's golden love-dreams fled ; ^^^^ t^^^ 

Within his troubled mind wrought 

Remembered he, with sudden dread, ti/>on the 



The Spinner left behind. 



Sea. 



84 THE BALLAD OF THE SPLNNER. 

With sudden darkness fell the night 

Like fate upon the sea ; 
The winds rushed on with gathering might ; 

In deadly fear sailed he. 

Swift, fervid flashes from the sky 

Burned out amid the dark ; 
Strange, fiery sparkles from the sea 

His vessel's course did mark. 

Blue, lurid lights along the shrouds 
Like charnel bale-fires glowed ; 

Most direful moanings filled the air, 
The coming wreck to bode. 

The opal stone in the Spinner's ring, 

Upon the Sailor's hand 
Gleamed through the night with sinister light, 

And shone like an altar brand. 

Then straight the Spinner far away 

He saw in vision clear ; 
Above the storm her droning wheel 

Buzzed dizzy in his ear. 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 85 

Out on the sea, pauseless as doom, 

The sure tides flood and run ; 
While in the tower's highest room 

The Spinner sang and spun. 



III. 



An instant, as the day declined, The spinner 

The Spinner left her wheel ; Turtught. 

An instant lulled the bitter wind 
And hushed the thunder's peal. 

She placed before the lattice dim 

A taper's lighted star, 
That through the wild night shone to him 

Resistless from afar. 

It called his bark along the sea 

In spite of helm and oar. 
Until he heard upon the lee 

The breakers' hungry roar. 



B6> THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 



II. 



Of the What sights the lightning showed around, 
As on toward death he drave ! 



aroused. 



Shapes the 

Spell He shrieks as one who breaks his swound, 
Borne living to his grave. 



For countless hungry, slimy shapes 

That writhe in the wild sea 
Swarmed through the foam of surf-lashed capes, 

And he their prey should be ! 

Out on the sea, pauseless as doom. 

The sure tides flood and run ; 
While in the tower's highest room 

The Spinner sang and spun. 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 87 



IV. 



The Spinner heard the Sailor's cry, ^-^^^ spinner 

A 'J 1 r ,. ^ almost 

Amid her fatal song ; rdenteth. 

And knew thereby his bark drew nigh, 
Drawn by her spells along. 

She shuddereth, as who in death 

Sees some most loved one laid; 
But still she saith, with panting breath ; 

"Ah, false one ! Ah, betrayed ! " 



II. 



Yet once again the Sailor cried, -S"/^^ rehnteth 

And called the Spinner's name : £^^^^' 

On her white hps the wild song died ; — 
She quenched the taper's flame ; 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 

His voice once dear called from afar, 
And love, though turned to hate, 

Grasps still the soul it once did hold 
With clasp as strong as fate. 

She pressed her heart in bitter pain, 

Her heart that would relent ; 
She strove in vain to chant again 

The spell of fell intent. 
• 
And with such moan as they may make 

The pains of hell who feel, 
The magic thread too late she brake, 

And stopped the fatal wheel. 

Out on the sea, pauseless as doom. 
Did sure tides flood and run ; 

While in the tower's highest room 
The Spinner sang and spun. 



THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 



89 



The sun rose red in the morning mists Of what 

And tinged the flying scud, *Stm shone 

And flecked the floating sea-gull's breast ^tJ>on. 
With spots that shone like blood. 

Its light decked all the broken wreck 

With mellow radiance fair, 
And turned to pearl each flake of foam 

On the drowned Sailor's hair. 



And in that chamber like a dream. 
Snared in her broken thread. 

Its dusky beam touched with its gleam 
The Spinner, lying dead. 



The Fate 
of the 
Spinner. 



90 THE BALLAD OF THE SPINNER. 

Out on the sea, pauseless as doom, 
Still slow tides flood and run ; 

But in the tower's highest room 
Nevermore maiden spun. 



AQC/A DELLA TOFFANA. 91 



AQUA DELLA TOFFANA. 

[italy; a.d. 16 — .] 

n^HE night is close and dark ; the rain 
-*■ Beats on the rose. Lit by my casement's glow, 
Burns on the rose's beauty like a spark 
Amid the gloom, although the nightingale 
Shelters himself, and will not come to woo. 

Is love then but a mood ? Merely a bliss 
Of calms, that, like the stars, flees from the gloom 
Of storms ? Or does the rose the long night through 
Feel, though so far, the nightingale's hot breast 
Throbbing with passion? 

Ah, it must be so ! 
I feel my lover's heart, through night and rain, 
Beating afar with pulses that make way 
Into my very soul ! 



92 AQC/A DELLA TOFFANA. 

He sends me here 
A tiny vial. 

" Love, I give you this," 
His words, " as giving you at once yourself 
And me. If in his lordship's wine — perchance 
Such things have been — a drop should hap to fall, 
He sleeps the sooner ; and to you and me 
What cause for grief if he forget to wake ? " 

What does it matter, O my rose ? Men die 

As leaves fall, when we most would have them stay ; 

If sometimes from the bough where it will cling 

We pluck a lingering leaf, long dry and sere. 

What harm ? The bough is fairer, and the leaf 

Was ready for the worm. Is it for me. 

Meek-eyed, to play the slave ? Though, like the queen 

Aurelian led in chains, I feel my hands 

In manacles, my soul is free as air ! 

Not one would ask upon my bridal mom 
Whether my heart was his who came 
To claim my shrinking hand as lawful wage 
Of prowess in the battles of our house ! 



AQU'A BELLA TOFF AN A. 93 

Could they not, kinder, send me to the grave 
Rather than to that loathsome bridal bed ? 

Mother of God ! how did I let him live 
To wake from nuptial sleep ? 

I cannot breathe ! 
How close the night is ! Ah ! sweet rose, in rain 
And darkness waiting all this lone night through, 
Is love its own solution? Does the heart 
That wakes love prove itself worthy of love ? 
Thus prove itself from essence holy, high. 
By destiny divine create for love ? 
You love your nightingale, and question not 
For proof of worth ; and I, because I love, 
Love on, and love and love ! 

A litde thing 
It were in my lord's wine — no Venice glass 
Is his — to mix a drop of death, which Time 
Already pours, but with how slow a hand ! 
'T is not the doing ! You, my blood-red rose. 
Would gladly cast those vivid petals, wet 
With tears of waiting, 'twixt your winged one's breast 
And tlireatening thorns ; but by that very deed 



94 AQUA DELL A TOFF AN A. 

Would spoil the rose he loves. If love be true, 
To sacrifice all self for love, defeats 
Love's best fruition. On those endless years 
Of burning pain that the monks prate, slow scorn 
Well could I smile to give my prince a joy 
One short, keen moment long I But to abase 
Myself from what I am, would be to spoil. 
The rose he worships. 

Yet might I be free ! 
Might I but walk without the creeping dread 
Of hearing on the path the slow, cool step 
Of well-assured possession ! I have been 
Upon the very brink of bitter death. 
Because that step's assumption could not there 
Come following me ; and but the poignant thought 
That there another step would miss me too. 
Has held me back. Great God ! were I but free ! 
If on the morrow when his wine shall set 
His lordship dozing, he sleep on and on. 
My widow's tears would lack the angry salt 
That galled the bride's cheek on my wedding-day ! 

Yet thus I were not free ! 'T were but exchange 
Of certainty for doubt. Suppose my prince 



AQUA BELLA TOFF AN A, 95 

Some fearful midnight — dark, perchance, as this — 
Should start from dreaming that it was his wine 
I tampered with ! 

No more this vial holds 
My hope, but my most deadly dread ! O sweet ! 
It is for love's sake that I here resign 
The key to love's dominion. As I break 
This vase, it is not hope, but fear, I spill ; 
P^or hope lives on because I love you still ! 



University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 



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